


Max Guevara: Tomb Raider

by Denyce



Category: Dark Angel
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-15
Updated: 2013-09-15
Packaged: 2017-12-26 17:06:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/968404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Denyce/pseuds/Denyce
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Max adjusts to life at the manor while her dad is gone out on an expedition and Sketchy is breathing down her neck to be a lady.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Max Guevara: Tomb Raider

**Author's Note:**

> **Warnings:** Infusion. Prior to the movie Lara Croft: Tomb Raider. AU, infusion with a tiny pinch of angst  & schmoop! 
> 
>  
> 
> Because I did mentioned it on my journal there is more. Initially I went the movie route (though it is quiet different) however it kept growing. Although with added rl stress I didn't have the patience to rein it in. For anyone interested I rolled it over to my DAbigbang - done and titled: Max Guevara Tomb Raider: What the Ancients Left.
> 
> ETA: Note the lovely manp was created by ClWilson2006 so much <3333 I will miss you dearly - thank you so much for the gift and the inspiration of this piece.

[ ](http://s672.photobucket.com/user/denyce45/media/2588_original.jpg.html)

Max heard the doorbell chime - again. There wasn’t much she could do hanging from the ceiling twenty feet off the floor, harnessed and ready to start her aerial ballet. Thirty, forty, then fifty seconds went by before the bell chimed again. This time Max hollered, “C **AlVinnn** ,” annoyed because she didn’t want to take the time to undo the harness unless she had to.

Seconds passed; behind her Max heard Sketchy clear his throat, his voice pitched low and projecting a pompous air to hide his anger, “You said you wouldn’t do that.”

“Hmm, I believe I said I wouldn’t unless it was warranted. The fact that you want to ignore your duties…”

“My duties? Indeed! I believe you wanted me to discontinue my so-called duties.”

“Again, that’s not what I said.”

Sketchy grunted his discontent.

“Are you telling me it’s no longer your job to answer the door?”

“The door?”

“Yes, the door?”

“Hmm…” But Sketchy just stood there and listened to the chiming once again.

Agitated, Max felt her temper rising, but she didn’t want a repeat performance from last week and pushed the anger down. Inhaling, she calmly asked, “Do you mind?”

“Oh, you want me to get that?”

Max closed her eyes, painfully aware the obtuse act was Sketchy’s way of getting back at her. 

Last week within hours after her dad had left, they'd started to argue. Or rather she had argued, yelling and pissed off. She'd wanted Sketchy to tone down his over-the-top butler act, where he constantly wanted to take care and see to her all of her household needs. Exactly what he did for dad when he was there. If she could have fired him she would have. However she didn’t have the authority – thank goodness. Because once she calmed down, Max couldn’t deny her reaction was no better than a child’s tantrum. 

In her tirade, she had hurt his feelings. Since then they’d been estranged and it bothered her. She liked Sketchy, he was family and had been living at Croft manor for nearly two years. She had even given him the nickname Sketchy instead of using his real name, one dad still used, Calvin. 

Max was only tired of the impeccable manners and station, the disapproval, and the silent insinuations that she should act or behave more like a lady. Not that he ever said anything overtly. It was all of his subtle suggestions, like the daily reminder she got when he laid her clothes out for her. 

It had been why she had even given him the nickname in the first place, her suggestion that he didn’t need to be so uptight and live the role of house butler 24/7, especially when he was young - only a few years older than she was. 

Dad had tried to explain how Sketchy took pride in his work and that she shouldn’t fault him for that. And she didn’t, not really. Although since their argument this week Max finally got and understood dad’s point. Sketchy was who he was and nobody was ever going to change him – she had to accept that. Although, on the flipside, it had to be the same: he’d have to accept her as she was, not who he wanted her to be. Obviously it was something they both needed to work on.

Exasperated, Max sighed, “Please, if you don’t mind.”

“Ah, well then, when you put it that way, I’d be happy to.” Smiling, almost with a bounce in his step, Sketchy retreated to go answer the door.

Eager to ignore whoever was at the door, Max started a series of small bounces, but forced herself to wait before starting any lunges on her aerial ballet routine. 

Max listened as Sketchy opened the door. 

Though it was a bit high pitched, the undercurrents of excitement and awe warred against each other with the simple words of, “Hi, there. Is Max around?”

Max immediately recognized the voice of Logan Cale and momentarily froze. 

She vaguely heard them go through introductions but Max couldn’t pick out any specific words over the loud drumbeat in her chest. Her hearing perked up when Sketchy let Logan in, telling him she was in the game room. 

Cursing under her breath, Max bounced and lunged toward the railing and caught the banister, swinging her body downward. Once both feet were on the floor, Max scrambled to undo the harness, letting it drop where she stood. Stepping over it, she hastily made her way to the stairs and started to descend with barely any time to run her fingers through her hair when Sketchy entered with Logan trailing behind him. 

Sketchy noticed she was no longer in the center of the room, hanging from the ceiling. He quickly scanned the room, and spotted her on the stairs. Projecting his voice to carry to the second floor, “Lady Guevara, a Mr. …” 

Though she continued to make her way downstairs, Max narrowed her eyes, irritated, knowing full well Sketchy wouldn’t have forgotten Logan’s name. No, Sketchy knew his name and unfortunately he also knew she had more than a professional interest in Logan. She had worried about offering Logan the job because she couldn’t deny her attraction. Nothing, not even the wire frame eyeglasses, the ridiculous outdated over-gelled hair, or the baggy clothes Logan hid behind, could shake her attraction. Sketchy had listened to her debate every reason why she shouldn’t hire Logan. How it was unprofessional on her part even though Logan had the best credentials of everyone she had considered. 

In the end, it was Sketchy who had convinced her to trust her instincts and just hire the best person for the job. If Logan was that person so be it. That day she had sent Logan her proposal.

Sketchy leaned slightly into Logan’s side and cleared his throat. “What’s it again?” 

“Oh, Cale. Logan Cale.”

“Right, thank you. Lady Maxine Guevara, a Mr. Logan Cale is here to see you.”

Logan turned to her his smile wider, “Maxine?”

She snapped, “No!” then coughed, softening her tone. “Sorry, no, it’s just Max.”

Max met Sketchy’s gaze, and silently called for a truce as she mouthed the word _touché_ , then politely dismissed him, emphasizing his name to make her point. “Thank you, _Calvin_.”

Grinning like he swallowed the canary, Sketchy cheerfully said, “Very good, ma’am,” then quietly left.

Reaching the bottom floor, Max walked over and offered her hand in greeting. Logan quickly responded, shaking her hand enthusiastically. Max grinned, hoping he was here to take the job. “Mr. Cale, it’s a pleasure to see you. Does this mean you’ll be accepting my offer?”

“It’s Logan. If you use Mr. Cale I’m gonna think you’re addressing my uncle.”

Max inquired, “Not your father?”

“Not unless it’s his ghost.” There was a smile on his lips, but it didn’t register in his eyes.

Her voice lowered, remembering her own mother. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

Whatever Logan saw in her face, he nodded, “Thank you, but it was a long time ago. It was an accident that claimed both of my parents. I was the lucky one and survived.” Though what he said was supposed to reflect his good fortune, to Max’s ears Logan made it sound like a curse. “Afterwards, it was my uncle, _Mr. Cale_ , who raised me.”

Max smiled, hearing the emphasis on Mr. Cale as he tried to lighten the mood. Though it would have been easier to change the subject, Max wanted Logan to know she understood his loss. “I see, still it must have been hard. I lost my own mother when I was very young and still miss her every day.”

Logan didn’t answer verbally, his eyes met hers; each understood the painful heartache of their loss.

When Max broke eye contact, she walked over to the wet bar. “Drink?”

“No, thank you. It’s a bit early for a cockta....” His eyes widened as Max pulled out a bottle of water and opened it to take a long swallow. 

Changing his mind, he said, “Sure, water would be great.”

“Glass or bottle?”

“Bottle.”

Grabbing another bottle, Max easily tossed it to Logan. 

Catching it, Logan held it up to salute her before he unscrewed the cap, “Thanks.” 

Logan took a sip as he looked around the spacious room. 

Max watched, amused by his animate reaction: his eyes widening in awe, gawking at one masterpiece painting after another, before one caught his fancy. Staring at one particular artifact; Logan walked over to take a closer look at the statue inside a glass case. 

Over his shoulder, Logan said, “You have good taste. French, 1920s, Chiparus?”

Surprised he knew anything about art, Max walked over to join him, staring at the bronze statue of Bast. “Yes, Dimitri Chiparus, was he heavily influenced by Pharaoh Tutankhamun’s tomb. Interestingly, my mother’s father, Richard Croft, was there, courtesy of Lord Carnarvon. It’s said, besides being in the right place at the right time, my grandfather was young, strong, and eager - why Lord Carnarvon granted him an internship.”

Logan questioned, “Envious?”

Shrugging, Max eyed the statue thinking about the treasures her grandfather had the privilege to witness firsthand. “Maybe. It was the find of the century.”

“It’s easy to see the influence. The sculptures of Chiparus combine elegance and luxury, embodying the true spirit of the Art Deco era.”

“You know art? Or is it that you just like shiny things?” 

Walking around the display, admiring the statue, Logan spoke with a serious reverence. “The Egyptian goddess, Bast. The goddess who comprehends all goddesses, eye of Ra, protector, avenger, destroyer… giver of life who lives forever.”

Max couldn’t help being impressed; still, her brow raised, silently questioning him. 

Logan chuckled and shrugged. “Okay, both.” Then he added, “Though to be honest I probably do better with shiny metal.”

“That’s good to know and quite understandable since you’re an engineer. Now does this mean you’re accepting my offer?”

Logan had taken a long swig, and then rushed to swallow the water in his mouth as she waited for his answer. Logan’s head bobbed in what she hoped was an affirmative answer. 

Once he was able, Logan burst out, “Yes!”

Max laughed, and thrust out her hand, “Well then let me officially welcome you to Croft Manor.”

\---

Two weeks later, Max was almost giddy waiting for Logan to arrive. Today he was moving into the manor. 

She had designated a section in the west wing for Logan’s living quarters- close to the stairs and one level up from his new lab. 

Once Logan accepted her offer she had him make out a list and started ordering whatever she could. Every day new equipment arrived for Logan’s new lab. 

Rounding the corner heading toward Logan’s lab, Max purposely avoided glancing in the mirror, knowing full well she was sporting a stupid grin. It was the same stupid grin she'd had on her face since Logan had left to handle his affairs before returning. Not even Sketchy’s teasing could dampen her mood. Instead she stayed focused and helped Sketchy to clean and air out the rooms where Logan would be staying.

She was making one last round to check and make sure everything was perfect.

Sketchy joined her, walking down the stairs. “You keep smiling like that and even your father won’t recognize you.”

Unfazed, Max replied, “And you’d rather see me frowning?”

“Not at all…”

Max slowed her steps; Sketchy had trailed off as if he wanted to say something else. Stopping, Max turned to him, “But?”

“No, buts. Mr. Cale seems interesting, and apparently he captivates you.”

Again Max prompted him, “However…”

Sketchy snickered at her choice of words. “Fine. I was just…” it took him a moment before he said, “Curious. I was curious since he’s moving in if you told him about your…” this time Sketchy nervously darted his eyes away from her. “You know.”

It took a minute to comprehend what Sketchy was trying to ask, when she did get it, it was like showering in cold water. Max stood there in shock, slowly sinking to sit down on the stairs.

She barely heard Sketchy’s, “Shit! Max, I’m sorry…” 

In shock, Max was honestly surprised it hadn’t occurred to her before now. Somehow she had allowed her raging libido to rule over good sense. Once she sent Logan a proposal she had ignored everything else. It wasn’t just that she hired the man, but that she had invited him to live and work under her roof at Croft manor – the one place that was her sanctuary where she didn’t have to worry or hide her extraordinary non-human abilities. The full realization of what she had done, effectively caging herself within her own home, hit hard. “What the hell did I do?” 

Sketchy sat down beside her. His tone contrite, he said, “I’m sorry. I thought things had progressed between you, that you had already…or were going to tell him.”

Max only snorted.

“Well you’ll just have to focus on the bright side…”

Groaning, Max asked, “What bright side?”

“He really likes you, like you like him.”

Max turned to Sketchy and stared at him in disbelief. “You don’t know that.”

“Actually, I do. You might be too close to the situation to see it, but I’d easily bet my vacation wages he’s just as smitten with you as you are with him.”

For a minute, she held Sketchy’s gaze, then rolled her eyes, dismissing his insight. She had no doubt Sketchy was good at his job and she’d defer to him for any household matter. However his expertise in relationships – there they were equal, neither of them had the experience to pull from to offer any sage advice.

“Fine, don’t believe me, but I stand by what I said.” Quietly, he added, “Max you can’t be alone forever, eventually you need to trust someone.”

Max sniffled, “What am I going to do?” and cringed and dropped her shoulders when it registered the pathetic whine she heard was from her.

Ever the pragmatic, Sketchy stated, “Nothing, unless you want to fire him.” 

“I can’t fire him; he hasn’t even started working yet.”

“Then give it some time, you have eighty-three rooms to avoid him if you have to. If it doesn’t work, then, by all means, fire him or have him go work at one of your father’s companies.”

Max sank into Sketchy’s side letting him comfort her. She was having a complete meltdown, tears threatening to fall as old pains surfaced. “I… for once everything just felt – that I was…” Max couldn’t say it, the word _normal_ stuck in her throat and hung in the air.

Sketchy understood; his arm pulled her in closer, embracing her.

They sat there for a long time until door chimed. Sketchy gave her one last squeeze and pulled away. “I’ll go and get the door.” As he stood, he offered, “It might not be him, it could just be another delivery?”

Max looked up, hoping he was right.

Sketchy grimaced, and stated, “But just in case, maybe you should go and wash your face? If it’s him, I’ll bring him to the library. Go on, I’ll stall him until you come down.”

Nodding, Max stood and raced up the stairs to her room.

\---

Anxious, Max faced the mirror, and saw what Sketchy had seen: her eyes were puffy and smeared with mascara. She was a mess.

Quickly Max grabbed a cleaning cloth, wiping it over her eyes to remove the mascara then splashed cold water over her face. She quickly lathered her face before splashing warm water to rise.

Once she was done, she faced the mirror. Sketchy was right, eventually she had to trust someone if she didn’t want to be alone for the rest of her life. But could she trust Logan?

While drying her face, Max decided to take Sketchy’s advice, and let things play out.

Taking a deep breath and finding her resolve, Max exhaled and headed down to the library.

\--- 

Max passed the foyer and noticed there were no bags. Out of curiosity she stopped and looked around, wondering if Sketchy had already taken them up to Logan’s room. Entering the library, she saw Sketchy was there talking to Logan. He took his leave when she entered. It dawned on her that he wouldn’t have had the time to bring any luggage up and be back down without her passing him either to or fro. Perhaps he put them in the coat room. 

Max shook her head to dismiss the ridiculous obsession of where Logan’s luggage was or was not – it was asinine to even contemplate. She had bigger things to be nervous over. Internally she repeatedly reminded herself to be C3: cool, calm and collected. Max walked over to greet Logan and smiled. “Ready to start your new life here at Croft manor?”

“Better, I packed and dragged everything I own to move here.” 

“Everything?” Not that she cared if he did, but everything indicated something. She still hadn’t seen a single bag or box large enough to contain anything she thought Logan would own.

“Oh, it’s all outside.”

She was relieved yet still nervous about losing her freedom. From now on she’d have to watch everything she said and did, to make sure Logan never suspected she was anything more than what her outward appearance represented – a normal young lady.

“What would you like to do first? I could show you up to your room and the lab or we could start to bring your things in?”

Logan’s hand curled around his neck. “Ah, tell me you won’t be upset if I don’t, you know, live here.” His chin jutted out as his hand swept across the room, indicating the manor.

Puzzled, Max uttered, “Why?”

“Alright, this might seem silly to you, but all this? I wouldn’t know what to do.”

Still in shock, she asked, “Where will you go? Part of the proposal was room and board, to be close by to work in the lab.”

Grinning Logan crooked his finger, beckoning her to him, then pointing out the window. “That’s the beauty – unless you object?”

It took Max a moment to realize what she was staring at. It was a large beat-up RV camper. There was no point hiding her surprise. “You want to live in that thing instead of living here in the manor?”

He shrugged. “What can I say, I’m a free spirit.” 

“Indeed.” The corners of her lips broadened into a wide smile. Although she didn’t understand what had just happened, she was ecstatic. Logan had unknowingly freed her from a self-inflicted cage.

“So, will it be a problem?”

“Not in the slightest. Though you do plan on working in the lab?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Good, then shall we?”

Sketchy was standing under the threshold, his mouth hanging open, pointing at Logan’s RV. “Did you see that monstrosity?”

Logan pouted. “That wasn’t very nice.”

Unbothered, Max answered, “No it wasn’t. Sketchy, apologize.”

“I’ll ask again, did you see that thing? It’s got a pink whale painted on the side.”

“You’ll learn to like it or ignore it- I don’t care, but you’ll both play nice. Is that understood?”

“Max…

“Sketchy, Logan will be _living_ in his RV, the least we can do is not make fun of his home. Understood?”

As if he heard her wrong, he asked, “Living in … in that?” Then he addressed Logan. “You’ll be living in that?”

Nervous, Logan started to backpedal. “Yes, but if it’s gonna be a problem?”

Sketchy straightened and bowed. “No, not at all. Please accept my sincere apologies.”

Confused at Sketchy’s sudden switch, Logan slowly nodded, and spoke as if he was talking to a child. “Yeah sure, no problem.” 

“Shall I go and fix lunch while you show Logan the lab? I could set it out on the veranda at say one o’clock?”

Max stated, “That’d be lovely.”

Sketchy started to leave when Max called his name. He turned and met her gaze, her voice carrying the heartfelt love she had for him when she said, “ _Thank you_.” 

He stared at her, a small smile pulling at his lips. Silently, he nodded, letting her know he understood it wasn’t a thank you for lunch, but for everything else he had done, for what they were – family.

Fin~


End file.
